


the diary of a suicidal skeleton. that's me.

by redroxy



Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Anxiety, Backstory, Depression, Gen, Panic Attacks, Self Harm, Slurs, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, VERY BRIEF mention of sexual assaulters in here, i guess, nothing graphic, self deprecation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8266796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redroxy/pseuds/redroxy
Summary: hi again! it's me, back with another sad fic. ive been writing this on and off for the past month on my phone, so there might be spelling errors ect, as this is completely raw. i don't know if i will continue this or not, so i'm leaving the chapter number set as ?. if so, more tags will be added as need be. thanks for reading(if you see any errors, its ok to let me know by the way. i will fix it. thank you)





	

**Author's Note:**

> hi again! it's me, back with another sad fic. ive been writing this on and off for the past month on my phone, so there might be spelling errors ect, as this is completely raw. i don't know if i will continue this or not, so i'm leaving the chapter number set as ?. if so, more tags will be added as need be. thanks for reading  
> (if you see any errors, its ok to let me know by the way. i will fix it. thank you)

* * *

 

  **log #1.**

 

* * *

 

 

 

Hey there, me. It’s been a real shit week, now hasn’t it? What a fucking joke.

 

…I don’t know why the fuck I’m writing this. There ain’t no point in any of it. Most of the time I keep all this shit locked away in my head where no one can see it. Cause feelings are just a weakness, right? That’s what Papyrus always says.

 

Nah, nah, actually, I shouldn’t say it’s just him. I know boss loves me deep down, behind that rough, Royal Guardsman exterior. And I’d be a damn liar if I said I didn’t love him to _death_ too. Heh.

 

But, that being said, he certainly loves to enforce the ideal more than anybody else. He can be a real hard-ass about it. And, honestly? I don’t know why. God, he has to know he’s pushing me to my limit with this shit, don’t he? He’s there to see my anxiety attacks. AND my panic attacks. He’s there to see me sweating like the fat piece of shit I am when I’m trying to keep up with his constant pushing and shoving. Lately, he ain’t even been comforting me when I have one of my… Episodes. Ever since he killed that human- that poor kid- and got accepted into that stupid position, he’s been acting like a complete jackass.

 

Oh, look at me, my name's Papyrus, I’m a member of the Retard Guard! I’m completely flawless in every possible way! I hate my big brother Sans because he is a completely useless moron who manages to fuck up in every single way and deserves to be dusted and forgotten and

 

…I need to stop before I really rile myself up again.

 

Anyway.

 

Moving right along from one awful topic to the next.

 

Life continues to be a real shit sundae. And all this brotherly crap isn’t even the beginning of the cherry on top.

 

The… ah, fuck. I don’t know what to call ‘em. The “repeats”, I guess. Yeah, that sounds accurate; though a pretty stupid read. Don’t matter. I’m the only one that’ll ever see this shit anyway. Whatever.

 

The repeats have been happenin’ again. Except it’s a lot. And boy, I ain’t just talking one little déjà vu. Not just one conversation I’ve heard before. But full days blow by and I know damn well everything that’s happened. I can recite a whole fucking day like it’s a script. It’s driving me insane.

 

When you’re living each day as the one before, over and over again… Let’s just say, it doesn’t feel like life anymore at all. It’s like I’m living in someone’s fucked up horror movie and that kid’s got their nasty little fingers on the rewind switch. I _know_ it’s gotta be that kid. Either that or that little fuckwad of a flower they carry with ‘em. Man, the nerve of that goddamn plant. Callin’ me a trashbag. I oughta show him to the fuckin' trashbag…

 

But, yeah. Business is as usual. The kid’s been coming through, doin’ their thing, and leaving us underground. With the occasional murder in between. God, I remember the first time they killed Papyrus. That look of excruciating pain. I wanted to fucking rip that kid to shreds.

 

But I couldn't. I just… I know damn well why I didn't. I can’t lie to myself. I didn't kill that kid because I knew they’d kill me, too. And because I couldn't stop fuckin’ crying. I’m too fuckin’ weak for my own good.

 

That was back before I was… fully aware of what was goin’ on. Back in the ‘good’ days where Boss wasn’t a dickhead and life just went on til we died. That’s all I had to fuckin' worry about. Get the fuck outta bed, go do my shifts, come back home, slam some mustard, and sleep. And I admit it nowadays that I took that shit for granted. I always hated it down here.

 

Since he was old enough, Boss has always called me a lazy asshole, which made it seem as though I was always the problem. But now that I'm literally forcing myself to live through sick, perverted scenarios day after day, I realize that life has always been the problem. It's not me that's making me feel like shit, though I do contribute by writing self-loathing shit like this. Rather, it's my depression that's making everything so fucked. It's that shady kid with the talking weed. It's just fucking life that bogs me down to the point of no return.

 

And it sure as hell ain’t happy. Then again, happiness doesn’t exist in this shithole. Everyone’s just trying to survive. We’re all going to die down here eventually. Whether we like it or not.

 

Always a fucking optimist, sans. The more I read my thoughts and shitty handwriting the more I realize how pathetic this shit is. But fuck if I can help it. I don’t know what I ever did to get stuck here, but I just want it all to end.

 

No, I take that back. It has nothing to do with the underground and the shitty people who live here. The murderers. The thieves. The rapists. It has to do with me and the complete fuckup that I am. The useless, pathetic, and weak excuse for a brother. Or even a living being, for that matter.

 

I mean, come on now. I can be taken out in one measly hit. One particularly hard slap and I’m gone. Though, to be honest, I’ve used that to my advantage a couple times. Just to satisfy my… urges. My intentions.

 

A few timelines ago, I stole some gold from Doggo’s station. Just to rile him up. Once he saw me, I moved into his blue attack on purpose. I still remember that feeling. That warm, dizziness as I finally fucking crumbled to a pile of dust.

 

I miss it, as awful as it sounds. But, I really do miss that feeling. Followed by the temporary nothingness. I don't remember much of it, obviously. Blackness was all I saw. Nothin’ but an endless void for me to exist in. Sweet, sweet bliss.

 

I wish I had the fuckin’ balls to do it myself. The most I've ever done is chip away the bone on my ulna, humerus, radias… From my el-bone to my wrist, I've cut and carved deep cracks into my bones, shivering away the last few bits of my 1 HP.

 

One time, I got carried away, and wasn't paying attention to it. I passed out in my room with a knife stuck in my fibula. Boss came in and found me with 0.1. I woke up to him healing me. He looked… angry. But not in a way I’ve ever seen him before. I saw that vigor in his face when he killed his first human. I’ve seen him genuinely pissed off at me for not doing the things he asks, to the point where he started throwing punches. He’s never actually hit me before, just blind fists of anger in my general direction. Beating the shit out of, and pretending to choke mid-air nothingness seems to calm him down. Hitting something really takes the aggression outta anybody, really.

 

But… The anger I saw on his face as I was starting to crumble to dust... It was indescribable. Almost like a mixture of being really pissed off, but also scared shitless at the same time. Leave it to boss to be the most unreadable monster in all of history.

 

Up until that day, I had never seen boss cry real, genuine tears. Sure, when he was a babybones, he’d shed a couple tears over a scrape or being too cold. But, he grew out of that charade. It wasn’t until he seriously saw me on my deathbed that he seemed to suddenly care about me. I honestly still can’t decide if he was putting on an act to get me to feel better or not.

 

Why would he waste so much of his magic on me if that was the case? Why would he have burst into a sobbing mess if he didn’t give a shit about me anymore?

 

He wouldn’t.

 

I know that. But it’s still hard to believe that such a hardass for a brother would care about someone else dying. Especially not to the point of tears.

 

That night was the nicest I’ve ever had, actually, in a totally fucked up way. Papyrus just held me for hours on the floor, crying, telling me how stupid I was for doing this. I miss that embrace, despite his armor rubbing up against my bones. I always have hated his chest-piece. That goddamn spiky, edgy bullshit. It looks ridiculous on him, and it feels even worse. Not that I feel it often, of course, but when I do, I always bitch at him until he either takes it off or let’s go.

 

I’m so fuckin’ close to doing it again now. I just want him to fucking hold me tight and get rid of all this shit inside my skull. Even if his way of doing it is by screaming and crying. All of this shit on the paper right now is making me even worse. I knew this was a bad idea. Visualizing my thoughts is worse than thinking them. I can see all of this now. Every suicide, every cut and chip in my bones, every reset, every insult my brother has ever shouted in my face. Like a fucking collage, I can see every scenario in my head.

 

And there I am, right in the middle, with everything surrounding me. And I can see myself saying something. It’s so clear now. I can hear it…

 

**_Do it. Do it right now. Papyrus will love you. He’ll comfort you. And even if he doesn’t, you’ll be gone for a while. You won’t have anything to worry about. Things will be ok. Just one, big cut. That’s all it’ll take. You can do this. Don’t be a fucking pussy. Dust yourself. NOW._ **

 

 

Goodbye again, Sans. See you next time.

 

 

I won’t be missed.


End file.
